


and i will sing this magic (into the world)

by images_in_words



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/images_in_words/pseuds/images_in_words
Summary: This girl was like a hurricane blowing into her life, and Quinn felt she might as well bend with the wind, rather than try to fight it. (AU)
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Faberry story, as the other work I've posted here - "all my dreams are coming true (now that they're about me and you)" - was my first Pezberry story. Like that one, this story was first posted on another site, but the version you're about to read is being edited, polished and tightened up in the interest of making it the 'definitive' edition. I welcome your thoughts, feelings, ideas and suggestions, so please don't hesitate to leave reviews and comments. I love hearing from readers, as feedback is essential to us writer types. And now, with no further ado, I hope you will enjoy ... "and i will sing this magic (into the world)"

There were many intimidating things about relocating from relatively small-town Ohio to New York City, but the most intimidating to the young blonde woman sitting on the train and trying to remember if this was her stop, or if it was the next one, was definitely the subway system. So vast, so complex, and so confusing, with all its letters and numbers and color-coded symbols, she felt almost completely lost. In her mind, the underground labyrinth of tunnels were caverns of evil, and the trains were dragons seeking to swallow up unsuspecting travelers, never to be seen again. She had been told just to keep count of the stops as the train rumbled along, but she had an unfortunate tendency to be distracted by the myriad of different voices and accents, the unique appearances of the riders all around her, and she found herself constantly trying to remember if that last stop was the fourth or the fifth, and whether her stop was the ninth or the tenth.

The armored dragon rumbled to a stop, its maw opening to swallow up new victims and spit out those it had already digested, and Quinn shook her head as she made the spontaneous, split-second decision to exit the train. By the time she realized a few moments later that this was not where she wanted to get off, it was too late – the metal jaws were shut and the dragon was slithering off on its belly to its next destination, and Quinn cursed softly to herself. Looking around the station, she saw that it was one of the cleaner, more well-kept ones, and when she noticed the stairs leading to the upper level, she decided to take them in the hope that she might be able to get some signal on her phone. Maybe then she could use her subway app to figure out where she'd gone wrong - or more likely, call her friend Santana to rescue her yet again.

Sighing in frustration, she trudged up the steps, feeling as though each and every one of the people sprinting down or pushing up past her somehow knew she'd messed up yet again. Her cheeks heated with anger and embarrassment at being silently judged by all these people she didn't know, who didn't know her, and being found lacking.

Finally, Quinn reached the top of the stairs, and as she walked forward, she was caught by the sight of a small crowd gathered in the open area between the stairs and the turnstiles, heard them applauding a young woman standing behind a microphone on a stand, with a portable stereo set up next to her. The woman was petite – not much over five feet tall, to Quinn's eye – but she stood there with a quiet confidence that made her almost seem taller, somehow. A white beret was perched atop a head of long, lustrous dark hair, set off by a pair of large, deep brown eyes and olive skin. As Quinn studied the girl's face, she thought her nose was maybe a tad on the big side, but not unattractively so. In fact, the more she looked, the more she was struck by the girl's exotic beauty. And while she appreciated the girl's ridiculously short skirt, the quirky sweater with a giant owl's face on it made her shake her head in disbelief. But when the girl smiled, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth between her plump lips, it was so bright that Quinn found herself smiling too, her current predicament forgotten in the moment.

As the applause began to die down, the girl cleared her throat and spoke in a voice that sounded like music itself to Quinn's ears.

"Thank you, everyone. Thank you. As I mentioned earlier, my name is Rachel Berry, and I'm a musical theater major at NYADA, the campus of which is not too far away from here. And while I do have a full scholarship, I'm still a poor college student - so yes, you could say I'm almost literally singing for my supper today."

Quinn chuckled along with several others in the crowd, rolling her eyes at this Rachel girl's earnestness. But there were more than a few dollars stuffed into a jar at the singer's feet, and she was intrigued, in spite of her dilemma. So much so that she figured it couldn't hurt anything to stay, for a few minutes at least, and hear what kind of performer Rachel Berry was.

Forty-five minutes later, Quinn's jaw was still on the floor and the jar was nearly full of bills. She was sure she'd never heard anything like Rachel's voice in her life. How on earth could such a tiny person sing with such power, such passion, such control? As soon as the girl had finished her set of Broadway classics and pop tunes, all Quinn wanted was for her to start all over again.

Then her phone buzzed, and Quinn was forced to stop staring at Rachel long enough to read the text message she'd just gotten...along with the ten others that she'd ignored.

All of which were from Santana. _Oh God. She's going to kill me._

Just as Quinn expected, her roommate's messages quickly escalated from a simple inquiry as to whether Quinn would be back at their place soon so they could _get their pizza on_ , to a rage-filled threat to slowly eviscerate her upon her return – whenever that would be - if she didn't answer her messages _like, sooner than NOW, bitch!_

Rachel had just finished thanking a slightly overenthusiastic older gentleman in a business suit who had dropped a fifty dollar bill into the jar, proclaiming that her version of _Send in the Clowns_ was the best he had ever heard, when she saw the tall, pale blonde staring at her phone with a look of distress on her lovely face. Hurriedly, she removed the bills from the jar and stuffed them into her purse, keeping her gaze focused on the worried-looking girl.

"Damn it!" Quinn swore. Her subway app revealed that not only had she gotten off at the wrong stop, she had actually been on the wrong train altogether. "How am I going to get home when I don't even know where the hell I _am_?!"

Straightening out her sweater and smoothing down her skirt, Rachel took a deep breath and marched herself over to the distraught blonde. This was New York City, and one could never be too careful when approaching strangers, but she couldn't help herself. She'd been raised to help others whenever she could, and even though she lived in the Big Apple now, those small town roots could never be fully left behind.

Clearing her throat, she gently tapped the clearly unhappy girl on the shoulder. "Excuse me, miss. I couldn't help but overhear you a moment ago. I would be happy to offer you my assistance."

Quinn jumped a little, startled by the tap and the singer's sudden appearance. She raised her eyes from her phone to greet Rachel with a flustered expression. "What? Oh, um – no, no, I'm fine, really." She smiled politely and returned her gaze to the screen, wondering how to formulate a text that might appease Santana. "Thank you, though."

She tapped out a short message, then looked up again to see the young singer frowning at her.

"It certainly didn't sound that way to me. Something about needing to get home and not knowing where you are? Let me guess – you're new to the city. Correct?"

"Um, no – maybe. Yes. Okay, yes, yes, I am. It's these damned subways! I haven't really gotten the hang of them yet," Quinn replied, blushing. Her phone buzzed with what was undoubtedly a profanity-filled reply from Santana. She ignored it, shoving the device back into her purse. "My roommate has been waiting to have dinner, and I've been keeping her waiting all this time, and - and I'm pretty sure that she's going to kill me when I get back. That is, if I ever manage to _get_ back."

Rachel nodded as Quinn cutely bit her lip, another sign of her obvious distress. "Say no more." Impulsively, she took a firm grasp of one of Quinn's hands. When the blonde didn't immediately rip it away, she continued. "I had the same problem when I came here, but now I'm practically a certified expert in the ways and workings of this great city's public transportation system. Where do you live?"

"Really? I literally _just_ met you, and you think I'm actually going to give you my address?" Quinn shook her head, amazed by this girl's boldness. She shook Rachel's hand away. "What, you think I've never seen a serial killer movie before? I may be from Ohio, but I'm no country bumpkin."

"I assure you," Rachel huffed indignantly, "I am _not_ a serial killer. I've never killed anything in my life, except a couple of unfortunate house plants, and a goldfish I had when I was five." She took a deep breath as the blonde eyed her warily. "I have no nefarious intentions or malevolent motivations here. I simply saw that you needed assistance, and offered such in good faith. And besides, _you're_ the stranger here. You know _my_ name - don't deny it, I saw you watching me - but I don't know _yours,_ Miss...?"

Quinn sighed. Another muted buzz sounded from the depths of her purse. "Quinn." She hesitated, but when Rachel nodded at her to continue, she relented. "Quinn Fabray."

Rachel clapped her hands in delight. She was like a Christmas elf who'd consumed too much caffeine. Quinn wondered if the girl ever slept; she'd never met anyone with this much energy before. "It's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Quinn! Now come with me. I'll just need a minute or two to gather my things, and then I'm going to get you home."

Before she could reply, Quinn found herself being dragged by the hand over to where Rachel's microphone, stand, amplifier and portable stereo were still set up in the middle of the open space around them. People passed them by, some giving them strange looks, but Rachel paid them no heed. Quinn found herself at a loss, shrugging as Rachel bustled about, gathering her things together.

Still unsure, wondering if Rachel was really someone she could trust, Quinn felt compelled to to ask, "Why...why are you helping me?"

The singer stopped what she was doing and turned to Quinn with a puzzled look on her face, as though Quinn had just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Why _wouldn't_ I help you? We're friends now, and this is what friends do for each other." She gave the blonde a warm smile as she crouched down in front of the small amplifier. "Would you help me get the amplifier onto the hand truck? It's a little heavy, and it needs to be perfectly balanced before I get it secured with the bungee cord."

Quinn shrugged helplessly and did as she was asked, bending to help Rachel lift the small amplifier onto the little hand truck - because really, what _else_ could she do? This girl was like a hurricane blowing into her life, and Quinn felt she might as well go with the wind, rather than try to fight it. Anything to get home.


	2. Chapter 2

The hand truck carrying Rachel's amplifier thumped down the stairs behind her while Quinn carried the large duffel bag containing the money jar, the microphone and disassembled microphone stand in one hand and Rachel's portable stereo in the other. Quinn wondered how in the world Rachel could have carried all this here by herself. But then she realized that the tiny songstress must have had help from someone else, because there was no way the other girl, all five feet and a hundred pounds of her, could have juggled all this stuff on her own.

With a final, resounding _thump,_ the hand truck landed on the subway platform, and Rachel produced her phone seemingly from out of nowhere. Her eyes bored into the screen, laser-like, as she scrolled through her contact list and tapped a name and number that Quinn was unable to read as she looked over Rachel's shoulder.

"Brittany? Hi. Yes, I'm done for the day, and I must say, things went well – even better than I expected. However, I may be home a little later than usual, as I've discovered I have an important errand to run on the way. Wait, what?" Rachel closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, as though she had suddenly acquired a pounding headache. She let out a low sigh before continuing. "Lord Tubbington stole the TV remote and won't give it back until he's finished watching the _Garfield_ movie, _again?_ I swear, I'm going to throw that DVD in the trash – no, Brittany, I _know_ he loves that movie, but honestly! You'll just have to explain to him that we humans have entertainment needs too. I'm sorry, but you really must put your foot down at this point. Yes, I know he might be mad for a little while, but he'll understand eventually, I promise. Okay? All right. I'll see you soon. Bye!"

Quinn arched an eyebrow at Rachel, looking at her with a puzzled expression. "What was _that_ all about? Who's Lord Tubbington, and why does he have what sounds like an unhealthy obsession with _Garfield_?"

Rachel giggled and motioned for Quinn to walk beside her a little ways down the platform. "Brittany is my best friend and roommate. We went to high school together. She goes to NYADA too, for dance, and she's an amazing person in addition to being a tremendously gifted dancer. I can't wait for you to meet her! You'll love her – everybody does."

"Okay, that's good to know, but it doesn't answer my actual question - which, again, is: _who_ is Lord Tubbington, and what exactly is his deal with _Garfield_?"

"I'm sorry, you're right. I should explain. Lord Tubbington is Brittany's cat. She's had him all her life, and they have a very...um, _unusual_ relationship. She says they're psychically linked, and that they understand each other on a deeper emotional level than normal humans can comprehend."

Quinn blinked a few times, trying to process this information. She felt her mouth open and close, but found herself unable to form a response. Rachel's eyes watched her intently, a look of concern forming within their deep brown depths, as though she was wondering if Quinn was about to faint, and if so, what the proper medical response would be in such a situation.

Finally, Quinn's brain sent the necessary signals to her mouth, and she said, "Um. Okay. I've known people who are very...um, _close_ to their pets, but... _that_ \- that's just..."

"Just Brittany," Rachel finished for her, beaming. "You'll understand once you meet her."

"Yes, well – I would love to meet her sometime, I really would. But _I_ have a roommate, too, and she's been waiting for me to get home for _way_ too long. I'm pretty sure that right now she's thinking of _at least_ fifty different ways to end me and make sure my body is never found, so..."

Rachel's smile faltered. Quinn thought she heard just the tiniest note of disappointment in the singer's voice when she replied. "Oh! Yes, of course. I _did_ say I was going to get you home, didn't I? Now, where do you live?"

Quinn felt a pang of guilt at making Rachel feel bad, so she decided to try to put the smile back on her face with a little joke. "You promise this isn't for stalking purposes, right?"

"Yes, Quinn, I promise," Rachel laughed. "I swear to you on a stack of Barbra Streisand CDs that my GPS is only ever used for good, never for evil."

"Okay, then," Quinn chuckled, and she gave Rachel her address, impressed and amused by the look of supreme seriousness on the other girl's face as she prepared to enter the information into her GPS program. You would think she was about to program coordinates into the starship _Enterprise_ 's navigational system or something.

Suddenly Rachel's head whipped up. Her already wide eyes widened still further, and the smile that spread across her face was the largest and brightest Quinn had seen yet.

"Oh my God!" she squealed delightedly. "What an incredible coincidence – it just so happens that your place isn't very far away from mine. Oh, Quinn – this might sound terrible, and please accept my apologies in advance for any offense you might take – but I'm so glad that you have absolutely no clue about the subway. Otherwise, we would never have met, and that would have been terribly sad. So, yay!"

Quinn had never really been much of a believer in fate or destiny or whatever, but when the tiny, excited girl launched herself into her arms to wrap her in a tight, warm hug, she couldn't help but think that maybe she'd been meant to get off at this stop after all.

Suddenly a rumble of sound announced their train's arrival, and Quinn reluctantly removed her arms from around Rachel's lithe little body, stepping away to put a little space between them. She felt as though she had smiled more in the short time since she'd met Rachel than she had in all the months she'd been in New York combined. There was just something about the girl's enthusiasm for life that Quinn found completely infectious.

The dragon's jaws opened, and this time, Quinn felt no fear at stepping into them, because Rachel's small but strong hand had placed itself on her shoulder, pulling her in along with the little hand truck. "Come on, Quinn. Let's get you home."

They plopped down heavily into their seats, and Rachel let out a sigh of relief at finally being off her feet after standing in the station for so long, closing her eyes contentedly. Quinn couldn't keep herself from staring at the blissful look on the girl's face, especially when one eye popped open to look at her as if to say, _What?_

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Quinn asked rhetorically.

"Mmm, it has. We can't get _too_ comfortable here, though. We'll be at our stop before we know it." Both of Rachel's eyes opened then, and the soft, almost shy smile on her face made Quinn's breath catch a little in her throat. "However, we have enough time to start getting to know each other a little better, so I suggest we play a game of '20 Questions.'"

Coughing a little and ducking her head in an effort to hide her blush at the eager light in Rachel's eyes, Quinn replied, "All right – but I warn you, I'm probably not nearly as interesting as all your NYADA friends."

"I'll be the judge of that. So, let's begin. First question: where are you from?"

Rachel, always observant, caught the flash of memory and emotion playing across Quinn's face as the blonde absently toyed with the hem of her shirt for a moment. There was anger there, and pain - and sadness too - but it was all gone in a second, and then her face was smooth and blank, an expressionless, beautiful mask, as she considered her words before answering quietly.

"I'm from Lima, Ohio. It's a small town, populated mostly by small people with small lives and smaller minds. Most of us grow up there dreaming of getting out, escaping, but not many actually manage it. I'm one of the fortunate ones, obviously. My mom...she's lived there her whole life, but that wasn't what she wanted for me." She paused, released a breath in a long, slow exhalation. "So after my dad left us, she pushed me to work really hard to be able to go to school as far away from Lima as possible. I graduated at the top of my class, decided that New York was as far out of my comfort zone as it was possible to be, and got a full scholarship to Columbia. And now I'm here, still trying to figure out how the stupid trains work."

Sensing Quinn's discomfort, Rachel smiled to set her at ease. "I'm a small town girl too. I grew up across the river in New Jersey," she said as the train slowed and came to its first stop. "And being so close to the city, it was inevitable that I would feel its magnetic pull. I was drawn to Broadway immediately after my fathers took me to see my very first show there, although they say that I was singing before I could talk – a theory I find highly improbable, albeit quite flattering."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up at that. All the tension she'd been feeling suddenly left her shoulders, and she laughed heartily at the thought of a singing baby Rachel, belting out show tunes in her crib. Then she was struck by something else that Rachel had just said.

"Fathers? As in, plural?"

The train started moving again, forcing Rachel to speak a little louder than she would have liked. "Ah, yes. That's everybody's next question. Yes, as in _plural_. As in the two gay dads who paid a surrogate to carry me for nine months and then give me to them mere moments after I was born, and who have loved me and cared for me and given me everything I've ever wanted my entire life. Is that...a _problem_ for you?"

Quinn raised her hands in a placating gesture at the sight of Rachel's eyes narrowing at her, daring her to say the wrong thing.

"What? No! No, not at all. It's not like we don't have gay people in Lima. They're just not as...conspicuous there as they are here. Remember, small town, small lives, small minds? It's not as easy for people to be different in that environment." She swallowed, looked down at her hands as Rachel's expression softened. She hadn't exactly planned to reveal so much of herself, so quickly. Rachel seemed to have an uncanny ability to catch her off guard; there was something calming and reassuring about her, something that made her feel like it was okay for her say things she'd thought she would never say to someone she had just met. "That...that's actually - it's one of the reasons I wanted to leave so much. As much as I tried to be like everybody else, I just...wasn't."

"Quinn. Look at me." The singer's eyes were kind, and her voice was filled with sincerity as she spoke. "I know we've just barely begun to know each other, really, but the one thing you have to learn above all else is that you're safe with me. Everything you say, everything you tell me – none of it will _ever_ be used to judge you, or to harm you, or make you feel badly in any way. Okay? I'm your friend, and I will _never_ , ever hurt you."

Soft, small fingers intertwined with long, pale ones in the space between their bodies. Quinn closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of Rachel's skin on hers. The nerves that had suddenly threatened to undo her completely began to calm under Rachel's caring, compassionate gaze. Trust was not a thing that came easily to Quinn, but she meant it as much as she'd ever meant anything in her life when she squeezed Rachel's hand and said, "Okay. I believe you."

Rachel used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the single tear tracking its way down Quinn's pale, beautiful cheek. "Good," she said. "After all, we still have several stops to go, and I would hate for the rest of our ride to become awkward. Let's move this conversation to less... _fraught_ topics, shall we?"

Quinn cleared her throat, chuckled. "I think that's a great idea. Is it still my turn?"

"Nope," Rachel chirped airily, as though none of the heaviness of the last few minutes had happened at all. "You used yours when you asked about my dads."

"That was less a question than a reaction, really."

"Perhaps, but it was phrased as a question. The ruling stands."

Quinn tried to pout, but couldn't resist the smile that threatened to break across her face at Rachel's satisfied grin. Helplessly, she allowed it to bloom. "Fine. Ask away, then."

"Favorite food?"

"Bacon. Yours?"

Rachel considered. "Hmm...are we talking about breakfast food, lunch food, or dinner food?"

"You can't answer a question with a question."

"It's not question _or_ an answer; it's a request for clarification. So, which food are you asking about?"

"All three."

"I should consider that to be three separate questions, but in the interest of brevity – something for which I am _not_ known, honestly – I'll answer. My favorite breakfast food is the fluffy and delightful Belgian waffle; my favorite lunch food is the exquisite pairing of the grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup; and my favorite dinner is pasta and sauce, as it has been since I was five years old."

"A woman of elevated tastes, I see," Quinn laughed, amused by the way Rachel answered even the simplest of questions in detailed paragraphs. The girl couldn't be more adorable if she tried.

Rachel stuck her tongue out at the blonde in mock annoyance. "I'll have you know there's nothing wrong with enjoying comfort foods. They take me back to the simple days of my childhood."

They laughed and bantered like that for several more stops, until Rachel announced that theirs was next. It had been a long time since Quinn had hit it off like this with someone - in fact, she couldn't recall ever feeling so connected to someone so quickly. Rachel made her feel so comfortable, so free; she was unlike anyone Quinn had ever met before, with her generous, open spirit and easy laughter. Even now, her eyes sparkled with light and life as she looked at Quinn, standing up and walking over to the doors opposite their seats, beckoning with one hand for Quinn to follow, the other dragging the hand truck behind her.

"Come on. We'll walk the rest of the way from here."

Quinn rose from her seat, hefting the duffel bag and portable stereo up with her. She thought of Santana sitting at their little dining table, fuming and cursing in Spanish over her roommate's continued absence, but somehow, she didn't care so much anymore about how angry Santana might be.

Rachel tugged at her arm, and together they walked from the train and out of the station. The air of early autumn in New York took them into its cool embrace, whispering to them of all the things that might be.

Quinn let the smaller girl lead them through the maze of the city, not particularly paying attention to or caring about where they were going, content to listen to Rachel chattering away about all the sights and sounds and amazing things happening around them all at once. And all she knew in that moment was that in getting lost, she had somehow found something - something that just might possibly be very special. She took a deep breath and hoped that for once, the universe would be kind and allow her to dream.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk from the subway station passed like a dream, as though the axis on which the world spun had slowed just for them. Rachel had somehow cast a spell when she'd taken Quinn's hand in her own, bending the temporal laws in order to make every moment they spent connected together seem larger, longer, somehow. Every sight and sound and taste and feeling became brighter, sharper and more intense than Quinn had ever imagined possible. Every aspect of everything around them seemed heightened: the colors more vivid, the scents more intoxicating, the taste of the hot chocolate they'd bought at a little coffee shop along the way sweeter and more delicious. Rachel's loud and boisterous laughter at everything was so joyful and musical it made Quinn's heart flutter in her chest. It was all so magical that Quinn found herself hoping they'd never get back to her place.

Suddenly their walk came to an abrupt end in front of a building Quinn didn't recognize. She looked at Rachel, frowning.

"Why are we stopping? Where are we?"

Rachel smiled at her, her eyes sparkling with mirth as the giggle she was trying to repress escaped anyway.

"This is my building, Quinn. I told you earlier that we were going to stop here first so that I could drop off all my things. Remember?"

Quinn did her best to assume an expression of nonchalance, not wanting to let Rachel know that no, she didn't remember, not at all. She'd probably been too busy imagining what it might feel like to run her pale, slender fingers through Rachel's dark, luxuriously thick hair (or something like that) at the time.

"Um, yeah. Of course I remember. Yeah." She squinted up at the tall gray building, hoping that Rachel couldn't see the blush on her face, which totally gave away the fact that she was lying. "This is a really big place. Which floor are you on?"

Of course, Rachel knew that Quinn didn't remember what she'd said. Truthfully, Rachel herself couldn't remember half of what she'd said this evening; Quinn's deep hazel eyes were very pleasantly distracting.

"I'm on the ninth floor. Come on – I want you to meet Brittany!" Rachel exclaimed as she tugged at Quinn's hand, pulling her forward, exerting that strange and powerful magnetic force on her body. She couldn't resist if she tried, but she had no desire to resist. Wherever Rachel wanted to go was where she wanted to be.

Rachel hadn't originally intended to stop here, but somewhere along the line she'd realized that it would be impractical - not to mention exhausting - for them to carry her equipment all the way to Quinn's place, only for her to then turn around and then attempt to lug it all back home by herself. Honestly, though, she didn't mind at all – anything to extend the evening and spend more time getting to know Quinn.

They quickly crossed the lobby, passing the security desk where Rachel waved at the large guard wearing a T-shirt and jacket emblazoned with the words "NYADA Security" stationed there. "Hi, Dave!" she called out with a wave as they made their way over to the elevators.

"Hey, Rachel," replied the imposing man. His dark, close cropped hair and intense facial expression reminded Quinn of a football player she had known in high school, and she had to repress a shiver at the memory. "Wait a minute!" he called, waving at them to approach his station. "Come back here. You know you have to sign guests in at the desk before bringing them to your room."

Rachel noticed the tightening of Quinn's grasp on her hand and signaled with her eyes that everything was all right and there was no cause for alarm. Quinn nodded to acknowledge her receipt of that signal, and they walked back over to the security desk.

"Oh, we're not staying. Quinn and I met in the subway station where I was singing. She had gotten off at the wrong stop and I offered to help her get back home." She gestured down at the floor, where all her things lay at Quinn's feet. "We're just dropping my things off here with Brittany, and then I will be accompanying Quinn to make sure she gets home safely. It won't take long – you'll probably still be here when I return."

"Oh," Dave said, eyeing Quinn up and down. Whether he was checking her out or assessing the level of threat she represented, she couldn't tell; but whatever the case, the intensity of his eyes made her more than a little uncomfortable. She squeezed Rachel's hand again to let her know that she would like to leave, _now._

"It was nice meeting you, Dave," Quinn lied politely. She extended her other hand for him to shake, hoping he wouldn't.

"Nice to meet you too," the big man replied as he shook her hand with a grip that was firm but surprisingly gentle. A small smile turned the corners of his lips ever so slightly upwards. "It's always a pleasure to meet Rachel's... _friends_. She has so many, it's hard for me to keep track of them sometimes."

Quinn exhaled and felt herself relax a little as she heard Rachel laugh at the big man's compliment. She still felt a little wary - but if her new friend liked him, then she supposed she could too.

"You are just too charming, Dave," Rachel giggled. "How is it that nobody's snapped you up and taken you away from here yet?"

The guard's tough demeanor softened then, and Quinn was startled to see the merest hint of a blush on his broad face. Apparently Rachel's magical ability to make people let their walls down, even for just a moment, worked on everyone.

"I just haven't met the right person yet," he mumbled bashfully. Rachel's interested gaze encouraged him to elaborate, something Quinn sensed the man didn't do all that often. "I do have my eye on someone, though. You've probably seen him around here. He's so cute - he looks just like a real life Keebler elf!"

"That's wonderful, Dave!" Rachel exclaimed, and Quinn had no doubt that she was completely sincere in her happiness. "You'll have to tell me more sometime. But for now, we need to get upstairs to Brittany and then get Quinn home to her own roommate - who is, I'm sure," She glanced meaningfully at the blonde. "Quite concerned for her well-being at this point."

Quinn lowered her face into her open palm, cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

 _Oh, God,_ she thought. _Santana. I still haven't called or texted her. She is truly going to kill me._ She imagined her roommate was probably at the police station at this very moment, yelling at them in both English and Spanish to file a missing persons report _right this second_ and causing a scene as only she could.

She needed to get upstairs and on her phone immediately. Rachel looked at her as though she'd sensed her mounting anxiety instantly, and with a short, but pleasant apology to Dave after he nodded his assent for them to leave, pulled Quinn toward her again, and before she knew it, they were in the elevator and headed to Rachel's room.


	4. Chapter 4

The elevator was kind of small and cramped, but Quinn didn't mind all that much, because it brought Rachel closer to her side. Their hands were still connected, their fingers lightly intertwined, and the warmth it created traveled from her palm and up her arm to finally settle in her chest. Rachel softly hummed a tune that Quinn didn't recognize as she watched the numbers change on the display above the elevator door. It didn't matter that she couldn't place the song; even at this soft volume, the girl's voice was a marvel, pure and clear and sweet.

Looking at her phone, Quinn saw that she wasn't getting enough signal in the elevator to call or text Santana, but she could see that her roommate had sent her several more angry, bewildered messages since the last time she'd checked. Sighing, she knew that she'd have to call Santana as soon as they got through the door of Rachel's place.

She was not looking forward to that conversation at all.

"Quinn," Rachel's voice said, tearing her away from thoughts of Santana screaming at her in that furious mix of English and Spanish that she privately called 'San-speak.' "I suppose I should warn you that Brittany is rather...excitable." Rachel paused, smiling as she described her roommate. "She's kind of like a puppy when she meets a new person, all curiosity and eager affection. The first thing she will want to do is hug you. Please, I advise you – _let her._ If you try to resist, she'll just hold on tighter, and you really don't want that. Brittany is very, very strong, and she's kind of unaware of just how strong she really is. She could hurt you without even realizing it, and I would much rather get you home than have to take you to the emergency room."

Quinn blinked as she took in this information. She'd never been much of a hugger (though she had to admit that she'd really enjoyed the embrace she and Rachel had shared in the subway station), but the very serious look on Rachel's face compelled her to nod in understanding.

"Let her hug me. Noted. Anything else I should know?"

"She's a dancer, so she's...very comfortable with her body, to put it delicately. I'm used to her walking around without a lot of clothes on, but I have to warn you now – she might only be in her underwear when we walk in. If she is, don't acknowledge it. Just smile and let her hug you and then act as you normally would upon meeting a new person."

Quinn blinked again, shook her head. She chuckled and said, "Um, okay. Sure. No problem. Because I meet people in their underwear all the time."

Rachel's laugh surprised her as the bell rang to announce that they had finally arrived on the right floor. The doors opened, and they stepped out and into the hallway, which was clean, brightly lit and nicely carpeted.

"You do? Where do you hang out, and can you take me there sometime?"

Quinn's knees buckled a little at the smile Rachel gave her, but she pretended it was actually because of all the things she was required to transport. Rachel's laughter echoed the whole way down the hall, quieting only when they reached her door at last. Quinn tried to look as though she was slightly annoyed, but she found herself laughing too.

"Okay," Rachel said, clearing her throat and trying to take on a serious expression once again. "Remember: if Brittany wants to hug you -"

"Let her. Yes, I know. And also, she may not be completely dressed."

"Right." Rachel covered her mouth to stifle another round of giggles. "Well, here goes." She fished her keys out of her purse with a small "ah," and unlocked the door.

"Britt! I'm back! And I have someone I want you to meet – are you decent?" Rachel called out, putting her keys back in her purse and gesturing for Quinn to come stand next to her. The blonde did as she was asked, positioning herself beside Rachel, drawing herself up to her full height, as if Brittany might be an attack dog instead of an overly friendly puppy.

"I'm more than decent, Rachel – I'm smoking hot," said a cheerful voice from somewhere in the recesses of the apartment-style dorm.

Rachel laughed helplessly at her roommate's silliness. "Yes, yes, you are, Brittany. But no, I meant, are you wearing pants?"

"Um – should I be?"

Quinn paled a little at that, but Rachel gave her a reassuring look and a squeeze of the hand, letting her know she had the situation under control.

"Yes. I think that would be best," Rachel responded. She shook her head, chuckling, then looked at Quinn with an apologetic shrug _._ "Please come out and meet my new friend Quinn when you're ready."

Quinn silently thanked her lucky stars that they had not walked in on a nearly naked roommate after all. It was suddenly very warm in the room. She took off her jacket to make herself more comfortable.

"The girl from the subway? OMG! I'll be right there!"

Moments later, a tall, long-limbed girl with bright blonde hair and even brighter blue eyes – the bluest Quinn had ever seen – bounded into the living area in a pink NYADA hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. She fixed Quinn with a quizzical stare as she crossed the room with astonishing quickness to stand right in front of her.

"Hi! I'm Brittany. It's really nice to meet you," she exclaimed, and what Rachel had said was true: she reminded Quinn of nothing so much as an eager little puppy hoping for a scratch behind the ears and maybe a thrown stick to retrieve.

"Very nice to – _whoof!"_

Quinn felt the air leave her lungs all at once as Brittany wrapped her up in a rib-crushing embrace. _Don't resist,_ Rachel had advised. Well, how could she resist when she couldn't even draw a breath?

And then, just as suddenly as Brittany had hugged her, she was set free. Gasping and watery eyed, but free.

"Did I hug too hard again? I'm sorry." Brittany's bottom lip protruded in a quivering pout. "Rachel's always telling me that I need to ease up, but I just can't help myself."

"No, no, it's okay. I'll live," Quinn quickly replied, seeing the sad look on Brittany's face. At that moment she realized, as everyone inevitably did, that it would never, ever be acceptable to make this sweet, vivacious girl sad, even for a moment. "Really, I'm fine."

Rachel spoke up to distract Brittany from her momentary sadness. "Come on, Britt," she said, crossing in front of Quinn, who still looked a little winded. She pointed at the duffel bag and portable stereo. "Why don't you help me put my stuff away? Quinn needs to call her roommate and let her know that she's okay."

Just like that, Brittany's sad expression disappeared, and her features instantly reverted back to bright and cheery. The stick had been thrown; she was compelled to chase it.

"We'll be back in just a minute or two, Quinn. Call Santana and let her know you're all right," Rachel said. "Let's give her a moment." Brittany scooped all of the equipment they'd brought back from the subway station, and then they were gone, disappearing into what Quinn assumed was their bedroom.

Feeling strangely at a loss now that she was alone, Quinn turned her attention to her phone. She was just about to press Santana's contact to call her when "Valerie" blared out into the sudden silence. Santana's ring tone. Of course.

_Oh, boy. Here we go._

"Hello? San, I - "

As expected, Santana's voice was loud and raspy, like the furious buzz of a wasp's nest after it's been poked with a branch, as it exploded out of the phone and into the room. Quinn had to hold the phone away from her ear while Santana unleashed the full force of her fury.

"Oh, so you're alive! Do you have _any_ idea how worried I've been, Q? _Do you?_ No, _of course_ you don't, because if you did, you would have called or texted me _forever_ ago! Fuck, Quinn, how inconsiderate can you be? Here I am, sitting here by myself, trying to figure out where my young, blonde, fairly hot but incredibly directionally-challenged roommate could possibly be in this tiny, tiny city of oh, _eight_ _million fucking people,_ and not once do I get a simple, _Hey, I'm okay, don't worry_ message, let alone a fucking phone call to let me know what the hell is going on! I was about to get a search party together with Blaine and Sugar and go out looking for you, for fuck's sake!"

Quinn cringed. "Look, Santana, I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, really sorry. I tried to count the stops like you said, but I didn't count right or got distracted or whatever, and then I got off at the wrong stop and I didn't know what to do. But then I met Rachel and she -"

"Rachel? Who the fuck is Rachel, and what does she have to do with any of this?"

"She's – she's someone I met when I got off the train, in the station. She was singing and people were giving her money and she was just _incredible._ She has the most _amazing_ voice, and she's really smart and sweet and -"

"Q, hey, hey, wait a minute – slow down." Santana's voice softened. She hadn't heard Quinn gush like that about anyone in a very long time. She realized, too, that Quinn must have been frightened and bewildered by the predicament she'd found herself in before this Rachel chick had come to her rescue. "Don't start hyperventilating or anything. Just tell me what happened, okay?"

Sniffling now, hating the tears that had welled up in her eyes when Santana had ranted at her, Quinn collapsed onto the small couch.

"Start again. You met this Rachel person in the subway? And she was...she was _singing?_ "

"Yes. She was singing inside the subway station. I followed her voice and saw there was a crowd of people watching her, listening to her, and they were giving her money. One guy even gave her a fifty-dollar bill after she sang some show tune he really liked."

Santana let out a low whistle at that. She'd seen more than a few less than awesome subway performers in her time, so for this girl to get such an enthusiastic response, and for Quinn to be so taken with her...well, that said something. "Well, damn. That's impressive. So then what happened?"

"I stopped to watch her too, and then she ended her set and I was trying to figure out where I was and how to get back with the GPS program on this stupid phone when Rachel came up to me and offered to help me get home. She could tell that I was, like, really upset and angry, and she said she just couldn't leave me there like that."

"Huh. The last good Samaritan in this city, and you have the good luck to meet her. Is she cute?"

Quinn frowned. Of course that would be Santana's next question. The girl was perpetually on the prowl. Rachel was _hers,_ and Santana would just have to find someone else to – _wait, what?_ No, no, Rachel wasn't hers, that was ridiculous. She didn't belong to anyone but herself, they had just met – how could she even _think -?_

"Helloooo? Earth to Quinn! Still with me, Q? I'm gonna take your silence as a _yes._ "

Quinn sighed, embarrassed. "She's beautiful, Santana," she admitted. "She might be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. But she's a lot more than that."

Suddenly she heard footsteps, and then Rachel and Brittany were standing on either side of the couch. She looked first at Rachel, and then at Brittany, who smiled and waved at her.

"Quinn? I don't mean to rush you or anything, but if you'd like to get home tonight, we need to leave now." Rachel's tone was gentle, but urgent. "Otherwise, we would be more than happy to let you stay here for the night, and then we'll get you home tomorrow."

"And I'm totally going with you!" Brittany interjected, grinning from ear to ear. "This is going to be so much fun!"

Santana's ears perked up at the sound of that second voice. It was bubbly and musical and completely intriguing. "Who's that, Q?"

"Oh, that was Brittany. She's Rachel's roommate. They go to NYADA. Rachel's majoring in musical theater, and Brittany is a dance major."

"Is that your roommate on the phone?" asked Brittany. "Can I say hello? Hi, roommate!" She waved as though Santana could see her, all happy smile and barely contained energy.

Santana laughed. Who in the world was this chick, and what planet did she come from?

"Tell her I said 'hi' back, Q."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but did as she was instructed. "Santana says 'hi' back."

Brittany beamed, drawing a giggle from Rachel. Quinn just rolled her eyes, which earned her a playful tap on the arm from Rachel, who then pointed at her watch meaningfully.

"All right, Santana. This has been tons of fun, but I'm gonna go now. See you soon."

"I'll warm up dinner _again._ Just text me when you're close by, all right?" Santana's voice was edged with tension. She hated worrying about her best friend all the time, but she couldn't help it. Quinn was like one of the vases in her parents' house: beautiful, precious and fragile. It was her job to protect her and keep her safe; she didn't know what she would have done if Rachel hadn't appeared out of nowhere to save the day. "And don't ever scare me like this again, or I _will_ kick your ass. Got it?"

"Got it. Love you."

"I love you too, Fabray. Now get your ass home already!"

Quinn rose from the couch with an exhausted sigh, feeling the all too familiar ache in her back and hips, the one that was always there to remind her of the past she could never truly outrun, not even here in New York. She took her jacket from Rachel's outstretched hand and pocketed her phone, nodding her thanks.

"Shall we?" Rachel asked, smiling that dazzling, heart-stopping smile, and something flipped in Quinn's stomach. It could have been hunger - she hadn't eaten since breakfast - but she knew otherwise.

Rachel and Brittany each looped their arms through Quinn's. Brittany bounced on the balls of her feet, eager for the night's adventure. "We shall," Quinn answered, to which Brittany responded, "Yay!" and there were laughs all around. Minutes later, they were out the door and on the street once more.


End file.
